


Fold & Press

by schfiftytwo



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anti-Ward, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Slightly Real Events, Laundry Day AU, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Slight Adult Content, fitzskye - Freeform, non-romantic-but-still-cute-af-skimmons, romcom, slight language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schfiftytwo/pseuds/schfiftytwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s laundry day, and Skye has way more than her fair share to do. In the process, a *certain Scot* takes the edge off one of the hacktivist's least favorite chores. </p><p>And maybe some other things too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Time of The Week

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So after my sad little ditty the other day I thought I'd balance it out by writing a less serious, more fluffy story. Inspired by slightly real events! (hence the neat little tag there).

“ **SKYE**. For heaven’s sake, you **NEED** to do something about this!”

Skye grumbled as her roommate’s shout tore through the focus she had on her video game. On today’s schedule was a marathon session of Domination on Call of Duty, and she’d be damned if Jemma was gonna interrupt her already nearly flawless win record. Pushing down the microphone on her headset during a handy lull in the action, she replied with equal gusto.

“Jem, not now! I’m five ranks from prestige, on the top of the leaderboard, and my KD is at 10!”

The door to the bedroom swung open more forcefully than normal as Jemma Simmons popped out, her face clearly annoyed and her arms crossed over her chest. Without another word she walked over to the couch, pulled off Skye’s headset, and stood in front of her.

“Wait no, Jem, no, nonononoooo,” she pleaded, “I’m almost at the end of this game!” She tried rather unsuccessfully to sway side to side to see around her roommate’s waist. Through her straining to see the enemies she was blowing up on screen, Skye watched out of the corner of her eye as Jemma bent over next to her ear.

“Skye,” she said softly, “You know I love you…and I tolerate your messes…but **HONESTLY**.” She took a step back, dug into her back pocket, and keyed in something on her phone. Almost immediately Skye’s game stopped, an all-too-familiar “Lost Host Connection” message coming up on screen.

“Hey! My game! What gives, Jemma?!” Skye said indignantly.

Jemma gave her a stern look. “I thought that’d get your attention. I already took care of cleaning up around the flat; all you need to do is handle your laundry situation. If you get that done, you can get your game back on.”

Skye scoffed at the suggestion. “Jem, might I remind you that I kinda sorta have a way with computers…? What’s stopping me from just hacking my sweet connection back from your cold, unfeeling grasp…?”

Her roommate brought her hand to her temple, massaging what looked to be the beginnings of a migraine. “Skye, please…? It’s only maybe twice a month you have to do laundry. I’m sure you can live for an hour or two without being glued to your game.” 

“I don’t know, Jem…my life seems to be ebbing from my fingers with the lack of gaming happening right now…”

Jemma's lips formed a distinct pout. “Skye. How about…if you do this one thing, I’ll make you some of that sticky toffee pudding you like. _Final offer_.” Her voice carried a distinct taunting tone.

Skye groaned again as her roommate retreated to the bathroom, clearly hearing the amused giggles coming from behind the door. Jemma was many, many things - a wonderful friend, a constant confidante, a whiz behind the lab bench and behind the cooktop, clearly a bit of a neat-freak…but a _temptress_? Her precious internet was being held hostage, and Skye kicked herself mentally for being so easy to manipulate into doing what she was certain was the most dreaded of chores.

 _Laundry._ Even the mere thought of it made her shudder.

But that pudding was calling her name, and Skye was going to take such great pleasure eating it. Hell, maybe she’d have two servings. She could see it now, sitting at their small dining table, Jemma looking on in disbelief. 

_“Oh Skye, you’ve outsmarted me again, I had no idea that you were going to do the laundry!”_

_“You can’t best me! Now watch me as I enjoy this delicious pudding. Muahahah!”_

_**Take that, Jemma Simmons!** _

Feeling satisfied with her daydream, Skye brought herself up and went to the bedroom. She figured she’d survey this “laundry situation” Jemma had been going on about.

 _I’m sure it’s not that bad_ , she thought to herself, _When’s the last time I did my laundry…maybe like…..three weeks ago? It couldn’t have been that long ago…._

Skye’s musings broke as she entered the bedroom, and she felt a pang of regret at allowing Jemma to see the embarrassingly immense pile of laundry that had accumulated in her corner. The stack was high enough that it began to encroach on her desk, with bits from the top falling onto the foot of her bed. 

“Alright. Jemma, you’re right, you’re right.” Skye said quietly as she picked up her clothes and began ordering them into a nearby laundry bin. Crafting an elaborate stacking pattern, she was able to get it all in without much hassle. Lifting it up, she began to internally sigh as she thought about lugging this small mountain of clothes all the way down to the basement and back again when it was done. As she lumbered toward the front door, she could see Jemma looking into the fridge over the peak of her clothes.

“Lots of clothes you’ve got there, Skye.”

“Jem, remind me why we don’t have a machine in our own room to do this without having to travel a million miles…?”

“Oh, Skye. We don’t make enough money between the two of us for a proper set of forks let alone a washer/dryer. It’s a good thing _someone_ reminded you to get it done…”

“Hmph. Your tone of voice hurts me, Jemma. It hurts me so. That pudding better be good!”

As Skye began her trek down to the basement laundry room, she could have sworn she heard Jemma giggle in her small victory.

“ **UGH**. Jemma, I don’t care how much it’ll cost to get a room with a washing machine and dryer in it, this is the worst!!”

Skye lifted up her basket onto a nearby counter and propped herself up onto it as well, whipping out her phone and trying to see what bank would be easiest to hack into for a few thousand dollars of hard-earned filthy lucre. As she searched, she heard a familiar voice humming (ok, maybe more than humming) some unintelligible rock song.

The voice was distinctly masculine, a bit of grit over its smooth tone. Skye felt her stomach turn ever so slightly as her eyes turned to the voice, her brain connecting two and two together.

_Grant Ward._

He lived in the unit right above hers and Jemma’s, and on more than one occasion their rooms had tangled together, usually because of the ungodly amounts of noise that would pulse from his room. Nearly every weekend there would be some form of music, or shaking bass, or sounds of people (loud conversations, laughter, party noises, and sometimes...more _intimate_ noises), and Skye and Jemma invariably found themselves knocking on his door to attempt to shut him up.

They both figured that when someone gets multiple complaints for the same problem from the same people, they’d change their not-so-great habits, like any reasonable person would. Not so with this one. In fact, "unreasonable" didn't even begin to cut it. Every time Skye would go up to Ward’s door, he never failed to open it and shoot out a slew of terrible, disgusting pickup lines; Jemma got it bad too. One night, a particularly explicit line about her accent and something about what he wanted to hear her say in a certain compromising situation shocked her nearly to tears.

Long story short: Grant Ward was an _incorrigible, indefatigable, womanizing_ **_asshole_**. Even psychopaths could be polite; Grant Ward was too lowly even for them.

Hiding her face behind her phone and pretending not to notice him, Skye sat cross-legged on the counter and attempted to make her profile as small as possible. As she squirmed, the humming stopped.

“Skye? Is that you...?”

 _God damn it_. Skye kept as silent as possible, using one hand to hold her phone up to her face and the other to silently start sorting her delicates from the rest of her clothes.

The sounds of boots clinking on the linoleum echoed, inching closer until Ward’s shadow was bearing over Skye’s scrunched up form. Bringing up one hand, he laid it on Skye’s head and ruffled her hair, like one would a dog.

“Hey you. Trying to hide from me…?”

Skye scoffed and pushed his hand away from her head, blowing away the strands of hair now muddling her eyes. She slid off the countertop and began to lift her basket, aiming to find the farthest washer from Ward’s. As she tried to move, Ward stepped in front of her.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to do my laundry. Could you move your hulk-ish figure out of the way, please?”

This time Ward was the one to scoff. 

“Skye, Skye, Skye. Don’t be so feisty; it’s not good for you. Here, let me help you with that.”

He began to lift the basket up and out of Skye’s arms.

“HEY. Stop that, I’m not joking,” she said, pulling the basket back down into her arms.

“Neither am I; why are you being so difficult…?”

“Ward, **SERIOUSLY** , I’m trying to - Ah!”

Her yelp coincided with the two of them forcing her basket to the ground, her clothes spreading all over the floor. Skye immediately got on her knees and began to pick up her fallen possessions, her anger reaching its boiling point.

“God damn it Ward,” she hissed, looking up at him, “Why did you have to…”

Her voice weakened as her eyes processed the sight of Ward examining a set of underwear that had somehow gotten into his hands. A very particular set of underwear. Black lace underwear. That she only wore on _special_ occasions. Her face turned nearly five different shades of red in succession as she reached up, trying to grab them out of his hands.

“Wow, Skye. I didn’t know you wore stuff like this…” he taunted, swinging around and holding the underwear up to the fluorescent lights, “I marked you as more of the plain jane type…I _like_ it.”

“ **WARD** ,” Skye said through clenched teeth, “If you don’t give me those back now, I swear to god I will _destroy_ you and make your life a living hell.”

He looked down at her, clearly amused at her threats. His mouth formed a curt smile as he handed Skye back her underwear. Walking away, he turned to look at her one last time over his shoulder.

“Next time I see you, I hope you’ll grace me with _those_ instead of that ratty pre-teen getup you always have going on…”

Skye sat on the floor, hunched over her clothes, feeling like just a bit more than a fool. The sliminess of his tone toward her sent a chill down her spine. She cut back her tears, knowing they weren’t worth wasting on a douchebag like Ward. Clutching her recovered lace underwear to her chest, she began to continue picking up her laundry.

_Who the fuck does he think he is? I swear to god, this makes today’s laundry the worst laundry day ever. Fucking Ward…..UGH! I hope he steps on a rusty nail or something….._

As she fumed internally, another voice broke the mechanistic silence of the laundry room.

“‘Scuse me Miss, are you alright? Do you need some help there…?

The voice was soft, tinged with a clearly UK-esque brogue. Kind of like what she’d expect the male version of her roommate to sound like. If Jemma was Scottish. Irish. Pigeon? She had to work on telling all these accents apart before she accidentally offended someone.

“Miss?”

Skye looked up at the source of the voice and saw a concerned-looking face staring back at her. His youthful face was covered with just enough scruff to be cute, and the softness of his eyes reminded her of all the illustrations of guys in sappy romance novels when they first lay their eyes on the girl of their dreams.

_Wait what?_

She felt her heart begin to flutter a bit as she responded, her voice suddenly shaky. “Y-Yeah, if you could help that’d be great. Someone came by and kinda ruined my perfect laundry stack…”

He grinned at her and crouched down to help her. “Yeah, I saw. He seems like a real bad character…let me guess, he’s your boyfriend…and I witnessed a round of flirting go horribly wrong…?”

Skye couldn’t help but let out a laugh that sounded a _bit_ too standoffish. “HAH. My boyfriend? Not a chance in hell, not for all the money and sticky toffee pudding in the world. Ward is a fucking twat, that’s what he is.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “Sticky toffee pudding, eh…? Got a way with words there, lass. Well, no reason to worry anymore. He’s gone, and if I see him again I’ll tell him off for you, yeah?”

Skye smiled at his suggestion, wondering where on earth this person had come from. As soon as they had finished getting her laundry back in order, she stood up and looked at her recent savior.

“Thanks. For your help, I mean. I’m Skye. I live up in 555.”

“Skye it is. Leopold. But most everyone calls me Fitz. I’m in 305; just moved in about a week ago.” he said, his accent reverberating in Skye’s ears in a strangely pleasant way.

“Oh, and don’t forget about throwing that stuff you’re holding in with the rest of your laundry.” he added.

Skye looked down and saw her still-clutched lace underwear, now prominently pressed up against her chest. Her face turned beet red as she quickly crumpled it up and tossed it into her basket, hoping he didn’t see anything that would give him any ideas. She tried to hide her now clearly flushed face, lifting up her basket once again.

“Ah…Good catch. Thank you…again.”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Good luck with laundry!” he said as he turned to leave. Before stepping through the open doorway he turned around, like Ward had before him. 

“Skye. You…you mentioned sticky toffee pudding earlier. I, uh…happen to be a fan of it myself. Absolutely delicious. If you know...you know, a place where one could get some, I’d love t’go with you. Y’know, from one sugar fiend to another.” 

Looking at him from behind her stack of clothes, she gave him a quick smile as he finally left, fully expecting her face to never quite recover from how flushed it had gotten at his words. As she loaded her laundry into the nearest machine, Skye couldn’t get her mind off how fast her heart was beating.

…And how all she ( _desperately_ ) wanted to do now was to share a sticky toffee pudding with Leopold Fitz.


	2. You Beautiful Goof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Skye’s chance encounter with a strangely (immensely) attractive Scot, she puts her mind to finding out what makes this boy tick.

“That’s quite the story, Skye.”

“MmmmMmmmph!”

“…Perhaps you should go easy on the pudding, you might get a stomachache, love.”

“MmmMMMmmmhhhpppff….!”

“Love, swallow your food first. That tends to help with communicating to other people, wouldn’t you agree?”

Skye felt a wave of tingling in her parotids as she swallowed her mouthful of pudding. “Jem, I don’t need your sass, I need advice! Guidance! What good are your ten PhDs -“

“— ah, it’s _three_ , thank you very much —“

“— sorry, **TWENTY** PhDs when you can’t lend a fellow human some advice on how to make my next move here?!?” As if to bolster her point, Skye grabbed another square of pudding with unusual gusto. Her cheeks were already full, a spoon sticking out from the corner of her mouth. Her previously enthusiastic chewing slowed to a crawl.

“Had a bit too much?” Jemma asked.

Skye poked around at the leftover pudding on her plate, finally looking up at her roommate. Her eyes were crestfallen. Almost immediately, a wave of silence fell on the dining table.

“No.” Skye replied, her voice a little strained, “I think…I think I like this guy, Jemma. And all I want to do is make sure that I don’t drive him away. If I have a shot with him, I don’t want to waste it.”

Jemma sighed. She reached across the table, cupping her hands over Skye’s.

“First off, don’t be ridiculous.” she said with a smile, “Untidy as you can be, you’re absolutely wonderful Skye. Don’t ever forget that.” she said, reaching up to push a loose strand of hair behind Skye’s ear, ”It’s my duty as your roommate and as your friend to help you in these trying times.”

She stood up and walked over to her roommate, embracing her in a warm hug.

“Besides,” she said, rubbing Skye’s shoulder, “he already saved you from Ward’s bad boy shenanigans. Already a keeper in my book.”

Skye smiled, resting her head on Jemma’s. “Mm…thanks, Jem.” she replied, a newfound hope in her voice, “You’d really help me?”

Jemma smiled brightly in reply. “Of course, Skye! If this guy you met is as good as you say he is, then I’ll help you put your best foot forward for him.”

She smiled at her roommate again, breaking off the hug to collect their dirty plates. As Jemma began to load the dishwasher, Skye couldn’t help but feel a bit warm and fuzzy inside. 

Maybe this whole thing could work out after all.

The sun was oppressively bright when Jemma and Skye ventured out of their apartment to do a bit of shopping. 

Earlier that day, Jemma had come to the conclusion that Skye’s current “smattering” (her words exactly) might have been “ok if she was about to go on a date with a punk rock prince” (again, Jemma’s words). Even though Skye much preferred to describe her wardrobe as “a-bit-more-than-subtle-non-conformist-chic”, Jemma had a point. She didn’t have anything on her that wouldn’t immediately suggest to Fitz that she was in some kind of nineties hipster gang, and that wasn’t exactly the look she wanted to give to Fitz.

Rifling through her cabinets and drawers in one final (vain) attempt at trying to find anything Jemma would find acceptable, Skye raised her white flag and acquiesced to finding a few new threads.

_But to have to go outside….?_

Skye figured that she could use her handy laptop to find some clothes on the internet, but Jemma insisted that shopping for new clothes was something best done in person. To be fair, Skye had no problem going outside, but she just couldn’t wrap her mind around how her tech-smarts couldn’t just solve the problem from the comfort of their living room.

Maybe with a movie on, and comfy blankets, and snacks. 

_And Fitz._

“SKYE, stop!”

The hacktivist stopped in her tracks, her daydream suddenly broken by the shout. Jemma’s arm was outstretched against her chest as a car barreled past them, the driver blaring his horn at the two. Skye took a breath and gave Jemma a nervous grin for keeping her from becoming a pavement sandwich, to which she received a not-so-thrilled frown.

“Um, so where are we going exactly, Jem?” Skye asked as they crossed the street.

“A very particular store,” she chirped, “It’s important that we cover all the bases here, for every possible contingency. Never hurts to prepare, love.”

Skye looked at Jemma disapprovingly. “Jem, it’s just a date…not like we’re secret agents on a mission or something…”

“On the contrary!” she chimed, “That’s exactly what we’re on. A mission! OH, we’re here - come on now -“

Skye felt her arm being yanked aside and with a blink she found herself inside a small boutique. The shelves and displays showcased dresses and shirts of all kinds, perfect for a summer day, a trip to the beach, or a stroll through the city. Mannequins standing around the store were frozen in hip couture, playing out scenes of young people doing young people things. 

_Definitely not her typical wardrobe choices._

As she walked around the store admiring the store’s collection, Skye thought for a minute about that one episode of The Twilight Zone where the mannequins came to life and did human things. Her mind drifted to how weird it would be to have a mannequin for a friend. Jemma always seemed well-dressed; what if her roommate was a mannequin…? 

Before Skye could even get a mental image of her roommate posing frozen like a flight attendant on a stand, she was grabbed (again) off to the side, this time thrust into a dressing room. Jemma’s voice came from the ether as the door to the dressing room shut, words like “this is nice and summery” and “if he doesn’t like this then I don’t really know what to tell you” echoing in the small space. As she spoke, a bundle of clothes appeared, draping over the top of the door frame.

“Jemma…?”

“Don’t worry Skye,” Jemma replied, “I’ll be right back with more. Take notes on what you like!”

“No no no hold on, Jemma wait -“

Skye sputtered out, knowing her roommate had already left. With a groan she took the clothes off the door and hung them around her, taking a look at each one that Jemma had chosen. Around her were colorful dresses, rompers, and all manner of blouses and shirts with coordinating skirts, pants, and everything else under the sun. While she was a bit incredulous at how Jemma could have collected all of these in such a short time (maybe she really _was_ a mannequin and her plastic colleagues had whispered to her what to pick…), Skye chose a flowy, yellow dress as her first pick, and proceeded to change.

As she slipped on the dress, she closed her eyes and took a moment to enjoy the cool AC on her now-exposed chest. Even though they’d only been outside for a few minutes, Skye welcomed the artificial breeze on her still-warm skin.

_*knock knock*_

“It’s occupied, give me a -“

Before Skye could finish, the door opened, trapping her in the corner of the dressing room.

_What the heck…? Didn’t I lock the door…?_

She placed her hand on the door and pushed it shut, politely trying to stop whoever was coming in. “Um, s’cuse me, I -“

The next few seconds passed by in what felt like ultra slow motion.

As the door shut, she found herself in front of a **very familiar** someone, telltale scruff framing his (disarmingly cute) face. A pair of off-white headphones were in his ears, his eyes focused on hanging up cardigans he was probably going to try on. He hummed to himself as he decided which one to try first, finally choosing one and turning around.

His lack of awareness of the situation in that instant was quite charming, actually. The fact that he had opened the door, come right in, and was now about to see her half-naked body enjoying the AC in the boutique was…was….

_**Oh shit.** _

“Mmhm - OH, MY MISTAKE,” he sputtered, his eyes going wide, “I’m sorry, I was listening to…to…”

Skye watched as his eyes traced her body, her arms beginning what seemed like the longest journey in history to cover herself up as fast as possible.

“S-Skye…?? Is that you…?”

“GET OUT! You…you IDIOT!” she yelped, turning around to face the wall she was now fully trapped against.

“Why would you open the door when it was clearly being used…??” she shouted, her voice quivering with a confusing mix of anger and (not) anger.

She waited for a response. One second. Two. Now three.

_Well? What’s the answer you…you…_

“I…ah, I-I’m sorry, Skye, I had my music on, and it was getting to a really good part of the song, and I get lost sometimes in my own head when it comes to music, a-and I must not have heard you say anything when I knocked, and…and I-I’m sorry, Skye, really…” he said, his voice trembling in an infuriatingly adorable way, “…h-here, I’ll just step out and wait outside…”

The door opened and shut. Finally alone again in her dressing room prison, Skye took a moment to let his words sink in. Of course it was a simple mistake; she might have gotten herself in the exact same situation. She _definitely_ didn’t need music for her mind to leap away from reality.

She looked in the mirror and gawked at her flushed face, now an embarrassing strawberry red. How on earth did a two-second peek at her half-clothed body put her in such a state? She’d had plenty of boys see her with varying degrees of clothes on; but now, with not even anything particularly titillating showing, Skye could barely keep her heart from beating right out of her chest.

_Fitz. Damn you, Fitz. You beautiful, beautiful goof._

“Ahhh…Skye…? You alright in there…?”

She took a deep breath. “Y-yeah. I’m alright. It’s ok, I’m not upset or anything….just a bit flustered is all.”

“Right, right…..might I ask what you’re doing here? This shop doesn’t seem quite up your alley….”

“Oh, no, you’re right, it’s really not,” she said hurriedly, still trying to calm herself, “but my roommate Jemma brought me here to find some new clothes for…”

“…For?”

Skye cursed herself. _Good going, Skye. Just let him know why you’re here. You’re here to buy clothes for a date with Leo Fitz that hasn’t even been made yet._ Why was her luck so good to her nowadays…?

_Well. It’s now or never._

“…Skye…?”

She took a beat, steeling herself for what she was about to do. Moving the loose strands of hair out of her face, she opened the door and faced Fitz. His face was a mix of concerned and happy, and she reveled in how his eyes seemed to look right into her.

“I…I’m here with Jemma because she thought I needed new clothes for a date.”

“Oh. A date.” he replied, sounding a little sheepish, “Yes. Well, ah…y-you look great in that dress.”

Lord, if only he knew. _**Just say it, Skye!**_

_**Gulp.** _

_**Say IT.** _

“…I’m sure whoever you’re going on a date with —“

_**“I-want-to-go-on-a-date-with-you…!!!”** _

_…Well._

“…with…with me?” Fitz replied, his voice slightly offset. Almost trembling, even.

“Yes. Yes Fitz, with you.” Skye felt her heart leap up and out of its mortal chains.

“Well, w-well I-I’m flattered Skye; I don’t really know what to say. But…I’d love t-to go on a date with you, if that’s what you want…”

“O-Ok…Then…how about I call you…? Or maybe just pass by your place…? Third floor, right?”

“Y-Yeah, that sounds good. I, ah…I work at home, so…just come by anytime…?”

“Sure, s-sure. I’ll…do that.”

“Um…didn’t you have things to try on…?”

Fitz looked down at the clothes still bundled in his arms. “Oh yes, yes thanks. Um, I’ll just…go over to this one here…”

He walked over to the next room, the door ajar and clearly empty. As he closed it, he poked his head out.

“I…I guess I’ll see you sometime soon then…?”

Skye’s face flushed again. She really needed for it to stop.

“Yeah, y-yeah. Soon.”

“Alright then,” he said as he closed the door.

Feeling more exposed than ever, Skye went back into the dressing room. She put her original outfit back on, took some random dresses, and proceeded out toward the cashier and ultimately the front door where perhaps the sun could melt away the torrent of feelings and (strangely pleasurable) knots in her stomach.

As she rounded the corner, she ran into Jemma, her arms full of more outfits.

“Skye? What are you doing out here? Did you try everything on already, did you choose anything?”

“Yeah, yeah Jem, l-let’s just get out of here, ok?”

“Wait, why…what happened? Why is your face so red…?”

“I’ll explain at home,” Skye replied, taking the bundle of clothes in Jemma’s arms and setting them down in front of a hapless employee, “Let’s just bounce.”

A swipe of her card later, the duo were out the door. As Skye ventured back home (this time with a very incredulous Jemma in tow), she felt a bit more than just the heat of the sun as her mind replayed the past few minutes like a broken projector.

_**“I-want-to-go-on-a-date-with-you…!!!”** _

_**”…with…with me…?”** _

_**Yes Fitz…!** _

_**With. You.** _

“Goodness, Skye. You asked him out after…?”

“Yes Jem, I did. I really did.”

Jemma sat back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. “…That’s not how I’d have done it, but if he said that then I don’t see why you don’t just go down there and really get to know him…”

Skye raised an eyebrow at her roommate. “Jem, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I’m shocked -“

“No no, I mean you should go down there and talk to him! He practically gave you an invitation to come see him, after all.”

Skye swallowed, feeling a new knot in her throat. Jemma was right, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of how strange it all felt to her. Here she was, having fallen for a near-complete stranger that she had talked to maybe a total of five minutes in the past week or so, and in those five minutes he had somehow saved her from Ward, seen her underwear, and encountered her half naked. All in that order too!

If there was some omnipresent figure out there somehow dictating everything that happened to her, Skye thought to herself all the words she could use to describe her opinions on how her life has been progressing recently.

“Jemma,” she sighed, “I just…just thought it’d go differently, is all.”

“Skye.”, her roommate said, a touch of softness to her tone, “Who’s to say it won’t be exactly what you’ve wanted it to be all along? So you had an *unorthodox* introduction to him, and asked him out in a less-than-ideal manner. I think what you’ve got here is a chance to hit a high note. Imagine; a wonderful date, with a lovely story about how it came to be. Sounds to me like a fitting conclusion to this whole debacle.”

Skye met eyes with her roommate and felt the sincerity in her gaze. Jemma always knew the right things to say; hell, she was always on the right side of everything. Skye was certain that without Jemma setting her straight she would have ended up in a very bad place, doing less-than-savory things.

Like…living in a van. Or eating canned bread and twizzlers. Or hacking away at the corporate machine. Or fantasizing about getting caught up in a larger than life tale of mystery, and intrigue, and explosions, and action, and femme fatales, and homme fatales…

Cracking a smile, Skye stood up.

This was her life now. The objective was clear.

_**Fitz, I’m coming for you.** _

Any sort of confidence Skye had in the approximately two minutes from the time she walked from her apartment had dissolved into the ether as she stood in front of Fitz’s door. What was she doing? What if he was working, or if he was out? What if he was actually some crazy scientist making homemade drugs to pay off a blood debt…?

“Skye, I know what you’re thinking. Just knock.”

Skye winced. Jemma had followed her for encouragement, and up to that point it had been helpful, but now…not so much. As she began to fall into what Fitz could possibly doing that would be a good enough reason to retreat back home, she saw a pale hand whiz past her shoulder and knock on the door a bit too forcefully for her liking. Skye turned curtly to Jemma and mouthed out every foul word she could until a familiar voice got her attention.

“…Skye?”

She turned nervously, and found herself face to face with Fitz. He was in a burgundy-checkered flannel, a black t-shirt hiding behind its buttons. His dark jeans and a set of big headphones draped around his neck completed his casual look.

“H-Hi, Fitz. I’m not interrupting anything, am I…?”

“Oh no!” he replied, stepping into his doorway as he motioned her in, “Not at all. I-I was just putting a few things away.”

He peered over Skye’s shoulder at Jemma. “And you are…?”

“Oh, Jemma Simmons. I’m her roommate; I was actually just on my way out; got a meeting to go to, can’t really chat, bye Skye!” she said hurriedly, shooting her roommate a wry grin as she walked off down the hallway.

_Damn you, Jemma._

Fitz gave her a puzzled look. “Well, would you…ah, like to come in?”

Skye blushed again - why her face had to do that every time was beyond her - as she crossed into Fitz’s room.

“Like I said, excuse the mess, I was in the middle of cleaning. Let me just finish up here…”

Skye gave him a smile as she surveyed the room. It was a studio, cozy but a bit untidy. Clothes here and there, jackets on the floor. In one corner was a drafting table and computer desk with some fancy looking equipment, the other had a small fridge and microwave stuck next to a floor mattress. 

“So…” Skye mused, “what do you do, Fitz?”

“Hmm? What do you mean?” he said, his focus on the bits of clutter in front of him.

“For a living, I mean. Are you a student…?” she clarified, her eyes darting to the stacks of textbooks under his drafting table.

“Ahh…well, where to begin…” he said, now digging through a pile of papers, “I’m a bit of an engineer. Mechanical, mostly. Drones, sensor tech, skunk lab materials. I teach design and development courses at a shop down the street; I’ve got a really cool thing going on with 3D printed materials…”

_So what you really mean is…you’re a genius. Right._

Of course he was. All Skye had going for her was a middling computer science degree and a keen skill in gaming. And eating. Fitz was practically an accomplished member of society, and he didn’t look a day over 22. He was like Jemma, only in guy form!

Her eyes trailed toward Fitz, still musing on his work. Instead of clutter however, she noticed his hands tidying up a vintage-looking guitar. The pick guard was worn, and the body was pockmarked with fading resins and smoothed-out raw wood.

“You play guitar?” she asked, her eyes widening a bit.

Fitz’s head perked up as he turned around. “Oh, y-yeah! I play here and there. Its my way of getting out of my head when I’m neck-deep in work. Can’t become a mad scientist…”

“Hm. Why don’t you...show me a little something?” she said, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “You can’t just mention something like that and expect someone not to ask for a demonstration…” As if to make her point, she gave him a sly smile.

He grinned, nodding at her logic. Skye’s eyes softened as she watched him plug his guitar into a nearby amplifier, admiring his technique. And his smile. And his…well, everything. She was in his apartment, nothing had burst into flames, and now he was about to play her a song.

_I don’t think anything could make this better._

“Alright…so I’ve been listening to a lot of different music lately, and there’s one band from Sheffield in England that’s absolutely brilliant,” Fitz said, his attention split between tuning his guitar and his heart-eyed guest, “They’re called the Arctic Monkeys…have you heard of them?”

Skye nodded, a definite no. 

“Ohh. Well this will be a treat.” he said, standing and looking ready to play.

“Ah…This one’s called ‘Reckless Serenade’.”

Skye smiled at the name, and listened intently as Fitz began to belt out a soft melody on his guitar. It had grit, but floated and was easy on the ears. He had a knack for playing, that was for sure.

_And then he started to sing._

_**…Those twinkling vixens, with the shining spiral eyes…Their hypnosis goes unnoticed, when she’s walking by…** _

He began to waltz around the room as he played, emoting and grinning at his single audience member as he fell into his performance. Skye giggled, nodded her head, and let her shoulders sway with the beat, all the while in wonder at how Fitz’s brogue transformed into this lovely voice. He had the makings of a sheepish geek (like her!), but his singing voice…she could only liken it to how Salieri must have felt when he first heard Mozart.

_Minus the toxic hate, of course. And the whole murder thing._

His fingers moved almost effortlessly along the fretboard of his guitar, belting out a solo of soft notes, filled with the longing feeling of the song. Almost as soon as it had begun, it had ended, with Fitz’s back facing her. Turning over his shoulder, he gave her a nervous grin.

“Um…how was that…? One of my favorite songs…I think I might have missed a note or two. Damn chromatics; I could never match those perfect pitch guys I played with back in school…”

“Oh no! That…that was…” Skye stammered in reply, “well…you’re really great, Fitz. I loved it.”

He gave her another one of those heart-melting nervous grins as he nonchalantly played a series of chords. “What about you, do you have a favorite song, Skye?”

She looked up at him, their eyes meeting. “Umm…well, I don’t really have a particular song in mind, but I’ve been listening to this one song I heard in a movie I saw with my roommate Jemma, its by this band called The Shins, and…”

Her words trailed off as Fitz began to play the opening chords of the very song she had described, the room becoming filled with the longing echo of morose-sounding chords.

_**I think I’ll go home and mull this over before I…cram it down my throat….At long last it’s crashed, it’s colossal mass has broken up…into bits in my moat…** _

Skye felt a keen smile form across her face as she mouthed, then mumbled, then began to sing the lyrics along with Fitz. Her hands softly tapped her thigh in a mock-drum line. She felt his energy as he belted out more music, and it was almost as if he felt the same way. The two of them feeding off each other, the performance gaining new life with every lyric spoken and every note played.

And again, like Fitz’s first song, this one came to a close. He let the last chord ring out as the pair exchanged joyous grins, with Fitz quickly coming up to her and embracing her in a hug.

“Brilliant! Absolutely, positively brilliant!” he said amid chuckles, “We should start a band, you and I!”

He relented his hug, leaving his hands on her shoulders. They met eyes again, both of them still sharing in the feeling of the moment. Skye smiled the biggest smile she could as she came closer to Fitz, locking him in an embrace of her own. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, feeling his soft skin on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she tightened her embrace around him.

She could feel her heart beating a mile a minute, but this time around it was less stressing. Instead, it filled her with a warmth that she hardly had words to describe.

_A moment of perfect happiness._

Before they could enjoy another second, a loud knock came from the door behind them. Exchanging frowns, Fitz put down his guitar and answered the door, revealing a vaguely familiar figure standing in the hallway. Dark shirt, chiseled jaw, cold eyes; eyes that darted right toward Skye.

“Well. Fancy seeing you here.”

_Ward._

Skye immediately felt the grime from Ward’s smug gaze on her. She could only imagine what his twisted self was imagining.

Turning his attention to the comparatively diminutive Scot before him, he spoke with a scoff to his voice. “Anyway. I’m not one to interrupt anything, but I’m a bit busy today and would appreciate if you could keep the noise down.”

“The noise? I was playing some music; I play every day and don’t get any complaints. Even the Landlord thinks its fine.” Fitz replied, crossing his arms, “…and don’t you live on another floor?”

Ward narrowed his eyes. “Hmph. I do, but I can hear you from where I am. I’m entitled to my silence, you know.”

“Well. I’m not sure how you could hear the ‘noise’ I was making, unless you have some supersensory powers. I’m done for the day, but if you’re doing some work, I suggest you put some headphones in. Works wonders to block out the ‘noise’…”

As Fitz closed the door on their (unwelcome) guest, it let out a harsh pop as Ward stopped it with his boot. Pushing the door back open and holding it open, Ward took a step into the room.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m getting at here. I’m working, and I don’t want any more racket.” he said, his chest puffed out.

Fitz stood his ground. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Skye couldn’t bear to just sit and watch the two of them stare each other down. She got up from her stool and stood behind Fitz, grabbing his hand and giving Ward the most defiant glare she could muster.

Ward shot the two of them a disgusting smirk as he nodded his head. As he made his way out, he turned over his shoulder and spoke, this time with a hint of malice.

“If I hear one more thing from you…*or her*…the two of you won’t be around for much longer.” 

He let himself out, slamming the door behind him.

Skye let out a sigh of relief, squeezing Fitz’s hand. He turned to look at her, his hard gaze replaced by a nervous smile.

“I suppose that’s enough excitement for one day, yeah?”

She giggled, leaning on him. “Leopold Fitz. You have no idea.”

Fitz hit the remote, pausing the black and white TV show. 

“Wait wait, no! I wanted to know what happens to the crew!” Skye protested, pelting him with bits of popcorn.

“Skye. Isn’t it obvious? The crew turns into mannequins. And the greeter is their keeper…”

She shot him a glare. “Well. I’m sorry I’m not a master of science fiction twists and turns, DOCTOR Fitz…”

He returned with a *slightly mocking* injured glance. “PhD, Skye. Just one, no more, no less.”

Before Skye could retort, Fitz let out a nervous cough. “So, ah…You never got around to telling me why you came around today.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his question. Thank god the lights were turned down, otherwise he would have seen.

“Well…after that whole fitting room debacle my roommate Jemma -“

“The *other* doctor, you mean -“

“Yeah, she’s got 20 PhDs, isn’t that awesome? Anyway. After all that…she told me that I should come down and…um…”

He turned his body toward hers, his eyes narrowing. “Come down and….? Force a confrontation with that hell-beast Ward…? Find out I’m a musician…? Wait. I know. You’re a spy, and you’re here to recruit me as your scientist. Is that it…?”

She laughed, hitting his shoulder. “No, you idiot. I mean…I was going to…”

She felt her cheeks begin to heat up again. Why they did that, she’d never know.

Before she could say another word, Fitz moved closer to her. Cupping her cheek in his palm, he planted a kiss right on her lips. Her surprise at his gesture was replaced immediately by a wave of warmth. She placed her hand behind his neck and pulled him closer, becoming encapsulated in the moment.

He broke off, letting out a soft chuckle. “Was that what you were getting at…?”

She shot him a smile, nodding fondly at him. And his skill at kissing. Mostly the second thing, really.

“Well. How about…dinner. Tomorrow. Come by at 7:30, we’ll find a place to do some chatting.” he said, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Y-yeah! Sure…” she said, feeling a new warmth inside her at his words, “I’d like that a lot.”

“Sounds wonderful, love.” he said. Not wasting another second, Fitz pulled her closer, pecking her still-warm cheek. He hit play, starting their TV show up again.

“See? Told you. They’re totally mannequins. Let’s see if you can spot the twist in the next episode…”

Skye’s eyes lit up as she mentally prepared herself to beat this rambunctious, charming, woefully handsome Scot. Resting her head squarely on the crook of Fitz’s neck, she snuggled in. No way she was going to let _her_ Fitz win this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go! That took much longer than I thought, but life happens. I couldn't think of a better way to do away with Ward, so I left him kind of hanging here as the bad guy to watch out for. Apologies for what ended up reading like a cop-out. -_-
> 
> The songs that Fitz plays for our hapless hacker are 'Reckless Serenade' by the Arctic Monkeys (slightly intentional monkey reference) and 'Caring is Creepy' by The Shins. Great bands, check them out! Also the songs are 100% not mine (clearly not a rock star here), no inappropriate appropriation intended.
> 
> Anyway. Hope you liked this one! Leave a comment if you like. :)


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